The Fall of Osgiliath
by Inconsequential
Summary: My first Tolkien fic. For this reason I'm keeping it, though it stinks. Review if you're feeling sadistic or genuinely like my style. Not a self-insert or a Mary Sue, by the way, if that helps.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**  
  
Sellevorn rode across the plains of Rohan, away from her home. She stopped Faerloss gently atop a small rise and looked about. Far in the distance, the troops of Saruman were moving, inky figures against a wide blue sky. They had raided her village the previous month- no one left there believed the Uruk-Hai were friends, as King Théoden tried to tell them. Thinking of the King of Riddermark, Sellevorn spat upon the ground. She had wanted to defend her village the year before- but the King allowed no women to fight among the Rohirrim.   
  
Sellevorn was leaving Rohan. Some part of her heart steered her to Gondor, and the realm of the Ithilien Rangers outside of Osgiliath. She would fight among the men of Gondor, and show that not all the Rohirrim obeyed Théoden's mad commands.  
  
Dusk was coming on. She stopped Faerloss under a sheltering tree grove and started a small fire. There was no time to hunt tonight, but she had _cram_ to ease her hunger. She sat far into the night, hypnotized by the flames.  
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In another camp at Henneth Annûn, the cave stronghold of the Ithilien Rangers, Aylus and Ionedhûr sat around a similar fire with their companions. Aylus absentmindedly twirled a small dagger in his hand, resting on one elbow. He had only recently come into service of the Ithilien Rangers and already they were mustering for war. He thought of his young brother Tanthan, living in Osgiliath with their father and mother. He had to smile at the thought of the mischievous twelve-year-old whose mop of fair curls lent him an innocent, young appearance belied by the wicked pranks he often played. Aylus sighed, lonely. When he had left for training, ten years ago, he had been the age his brother was now. But Tanthan had no hope of becoming a Ranger. The small boy had periodic strange fits, in which pieces of his body appeared possessed by demons. Still, the boy kept his sunny personality; it was Aylus who had demons in his head.  
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Ionedhûr was the ancient commander of Aylus' troop of Rangers, under Captain Faramir. He was ten centuries old, yet looked like a young man but for the grief etched on his fair face. Now he closed his eyes, immeasurably weary yet unable to find peace or rest. Anoën, his wife of fifty years, had died but a month ago. The Southron woman had been a true soulmate, knowing what it was like to be different from everyone else in Gondor. She could understand Ionedhûr's plight as a half-elf. When the elves did not accept his looks or senses- he grew a short beard, unheard of among them, and had the senses of a human- she did not care. When the men ridiculed his elven features and pointed ears, she kissed away his doubts and fears. The only thing which came between the pair was his immortality. He was cursed to live forever. She was cursed to die after threescore and ten years spent on Middle Earth.  
  
Ionedhûr planned to join her shortly. He sang softly and grimly to the fire-shadowed walls around him  
  
The world is made of sorrow  
each star a prick of pain  
Who wishes to see the morrow  
when there is naught to gain?  
  
No answer issued from the mute walls save a soft echo and the rush of the far-off waterfall. Aylus, jerked out of his own reverie, looked at his mentor sleepily. Ionedhûr gave the young man a small smile, fighting the urge to smoothe his tousled sand-colored hair from his drooping eyes. Gently taking the small dagger from Aylus' hand, he put it next to his bedroll in its sheath, where the sleeping boy could not roll onto it.  
  
Ionedhûr drifted off to sleep, to dream of Anoën.  
**********************************  
  
The Uruk-Hai marched for Osgiliath in many ranks. They were still far away, but getting ever closer to their goal. They did not stop for the night.  
  
They had sent a scout party far ahead of them, some twoscore in number, to test the defenses of the Ithilien Rangers.  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Tolkien's books, though most of these characters are my own. The poems are my creation and property.  
  
  
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	2. Chapter One: Of Meeting and Fighting

**Chapter 1: Of Meeting and Fighting   
**   
Sellevorn snapped awake before dawn, feeling cold and sticky with misting droplets. The day was gray and dreary as she set out after a hasty breakfast, and the rising sun stained the clouds a deep, murky red. In the tales her father used to tell her, a red sun meant bloodshed. Up ahead, she heard the sounds of clanging metal echoing through the mist.  
*************************************  
  
Aylus had risen early that day, restless from the days of inactivity he had spent in the caves. A scouting party of fifteen was just leaving, and after receiving Ionedhûr's permission he joined them. He carried his saddle to Aran, and readied himself to ride across the plain.  
  
They rode mainly in silence, senses alert. This was no different from usual for Aylus, who was by nature quite reclusive. Relying on the others to be his eyes, he cast his gaze up into the cloudy sky and listened for any movement, feeling content in the silence, not really expecting to hear anything.  
  
Tolmir, a young ranger close to Aylus' age, nudged his friend, looking across the plain.  
  
Eh Bramyn, you see that?  
  
I can't see a single thing, Tolmir, not with that Valar-cursed fog all around us!  
  
Aylus exclaimed, sitting up and peering about. The sound of their fell voices and rusty weapons travels on the air! But how comes this, that they travel so easily in the day?  
  
'Tis hardly day, Bramyn commented, looking about the gloom, suddenly serious. And these are no mere Orcs. From the heavy sound of their tramping, I judge them to be Uruk-Hai, fell beasts created by some form of dark sorcery which enables them to travel easily even in full sunlight.  
  
Have they seen us? asked Tolmir anxiously, hand on his blade.  
  
Ahead of them in the company, their scout let out a short cry.  
  
They have now, said Aylus grimly, unsheathing his sword.  
***************************************  
  
Sellevorn checked her weapons and slipped off the heavy quiver of arrows which would hinder her in close combat. In the murky fog, there was no use for arrows in any case. She left the quiver rolled in her pack on Faerloss' back and moved quietly into the melee.  
  
When she neared her destination she paused, able to see for the first time the combatants in the battle wore the clothes of the Ithilien rangers, and their adversaries were Uruk-Hai similar to those who had ransacked her village earlier in the year. She could not stand by while these creatures killed men of Gondor. Slipping closer to the fringes of the action, she smoothly slid a long knife through the armor of one of the Uruks He stiffened and fell away from her, and the others turned... to see the new threat was but a diminutive, cloaked figure. Sellevorn's eyes widened as ten Uruk-Hai converged on her at once.  
*******************************************  
  
Aylus fought with a ferocity born of desperation, felling two of the enemy in quick succession. To his left he heard Tolmir's cry for help and began to rush to his aid, but something caught his eye. At the edge of his vision, he saw an unknown cloaked figure set upon by ten of the enemy, fighting mightily. However, it was not enough, and though the stranger's blade swirled and flowed through the tepid air, he was forced back. Aylus paused a moment, captivated by this warrior's flashing blade. Then, shaking himself, he ran to the stranger's aid, sword held out. He was none too early, as already the stranger let out a high-pitched gasp and stumbled down to one knee, his leg deeply scored just above the knee. Aylus called for help, and two other rangers whose features he could not make out ran to aid him. Together, they quickly dispatched all of the Uruk-Hai and stood there, looking about.  
  
Out of the darkness came eleven more rangers.   
  
Where are Canron and Tolmir? Aylus demanded. He felt his voice squeak a bit. Where are they?  
  
Toldion, the expedition leader, shook his head, holding the edges of a slice on his upper arm together with his left hand.   
  
They are fallen, Aylus, he told the young ranger gently.  
  
Aylus slammed his sword into the unmoving chest of a dead Uruk, face contorted. _He would not shed tears_. Many had fallen in these dark times- it was not important that these were the first of those known to him. It was now time to turn to more important manners, and let mourning wait until after the war.  
  
The rangers formed a ragged circle around the strange cloaked figure who had aided them in their fight.  
  
Who are you? Toldion demanded. Remove your hood!  
  
The cloaked figure, leaning on his sword with one hand, complied, twitching the hood back from his face.  
  
Aylus gaped in astonishment and embarrassment. This was the warrior he had admired and saved? A young maiden's face, pale under a deep tan, stared up at the company with wide eyes.  
****************************************  
  
Sellevorn sighed and removed her hood. She knew there was no way she could be mistaken for anything but a maiden, given her stature, build and face, but she had hoped to prove her prowess in battle first. Being wounded and at the mercy of a company of rangers had not figured in her calculations. Straightening up to her full, albeit unimpressive stature, she prepared to speak.  
  
she paused a moment, gathering her courage, I come from Rohan to aid Osgiliath against the forces of Sauron and Saruman.  
  
Aylus' eyes traveled over the maiden's body, taking in the bleeding gash on her leg through the scandalous leggings she wore, the man's tunic which was far too long for her short stature, and the delicate features of her face, offset by a recently broken nose and flyaway, yellow-streaked brown hair. He could not control a short, disbelieving laugh at this strange maiden.  
  
Toldion, too, nearly gave way to mirth as laughter spread among his men, but he was able to maintain a suitably stern expression.  
  
he began gently, then stopped.  
  
My name is Sellevorn. the maiden broke in.  
  
Mistress Sellevorn, Toldion continued,It would be unwise of me, to say the least, to allow you to risk yourself in battle.  
  
'Twould be unwise of you, sir, to ignore an able soldier in a time of war! she broke in, angered.  
  
But my lady, you are injured, and a woman, Toldion pointed out.  
  
In his next breath he found himself sprawled on the ground at the point of a sword. Sellevorn glared down at him.  
  
And you were just bested by this injured woman, she said sweetly from her stance above him.  
  
Toldion raised an eyebrow and rose gracefully from the ground, one hand still clasped about the cut on his arm.  
  
Aylus gave a low growl, angry to see his commander bested by this upstart maiden.  
  
Fight someone not caught off his guard! he challenged her, stepping in front of Toldion.  
  
Sellevorn responded, raising her sword.  
  
Toldion's voice, sharp as a whipcrack, broke through Aylus' anger. You challenge a lady? His eyes showed surprise and disappointment.  
  
Aylus cursed and stepped back. Why had he challenged a lady when she should not even be carrying a sword? He shook his head at his own stupidity.  
  
He challenges a warrior, Sellevorn said coldly. If you do not accept me as such now, perhaps your mind will change when war is upon you. Go where you will, I ride for Osgiliath.  
  
Toldion sighed, you may come with us. We ride for Henneth Annûn. Perhaps, once she reached the stronghold, she could be persuaded to remain there instead of going to Osgiliath.  
  
With a wary expression, Sellevorn sheathed her sword and called for Faerloss, mounting quickly. Once her back was turned, Aylus turned to Toldion, forgetting to address his commander with the proper respect.  
  
Are you out of your head? he hissed. Showing this strange maiden Henneth Annûn?  
  
Toldion did not even dignify the comment, but turned away and summoned his own horse.  
I suggest you mount up, he said coldly to Aylus, and rode off.  
***************************************************  
  
Aylus rode at the rear of the company, in bad humor. He snuck a hate-filled glare at his companion, Sellevorn. Why Toldion had put it upon him to stay with the lady when he knew Aylus did not even like to talk to his fellow rangers... this punishment was going too far, considering his actions had been fully justified.   
  
Sellevorn tried to ignore the Ranger riding at her side. Her leg was paining her a great deal, but she did not enjoy admitting that in front of the man who believed her weak in any case. However, when blood began to pool in her boot, she could not keep her attention from it any longer. Sighing, she used her knife to hack a long strip from the bottom of her already-threadbare tunic. She wrapped the makeshift bandage about her leg and tied it off, sitting awkwardly on Faerloss.  
  
Aylus ignored the maiden's contortions. He had decided this was the best course of action for the time being, though in the silence it was difficult to refrain from remembering his fallen companions. It occupied him better to focus on his intense anger. If the maiden had not come to aid them and gotten herself surrounded by Uruk-Hai, perhaps he could have saved his friends when he heard Tolmir's cry, instead of protecting this upstart wench.  
  
A voice broke in on his thoughts, a high-pitched, slightly grating voice. It was the maiden, Sellevorn.  
  
Is Henneth Annûn far from here?  
  
he ground out from between clenched teeth. We should arrive shortly.  
  
That is good.  
  
It is not good! YOU should not even be coming with us! Aylus rubbed his aching temples and cursed the Valar for bringing this misguidedly heroic maiden on the rangers of Ithilien.  
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Ionedhûr stood atop a ridge, looking out for the return party. Though he was not blessed with the senses of an Elf, he searched the horizon with all his might. The sun had risen red today, and a breeze whipped his short hair, carrying the scent of death.  
  
The air is full and ringing  
with your voice calling my name  
I hear the song you are singing  
I will never be the same.  
  
He stood a moment, frozen on the hill. Faintly he saw the outline of fifteen riders and seventeen horses. Blinking, he counted again. The reduced number of riders was easily, though sadly, explained, but where had they found another horse? A rather well-bred one at that, looking like one of the horses of Rohan... Well, further questions and answer would have to wait until the party arrived in Henneth Annûn.  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing here mentioned by Tolkien in any of his books. I do own all of the characters which have so far been seen, and the poetry.


	3. Chapter Two: Of Lonely Thoughts

**Chapter Two: In Which All Get Their Due  
**   
The company pulled their horses up near the waterfall entrance to Henneth Annûn. They were greeted by a strange, tall man. Sellevorn blinked, rubbing her eyes. The man had very odd ears... and a strangely sparse beard. He was quite tall as well. Could this be one of the legendary Elves, unnatural creatures supposedly allied with Gondor? Yet she had always heard their teeth were pointed as well, to drink the life force of humans and fuel their immortal lives. She shrank back in fear. Was he an enemy?  
  
Eyeing the strange maiden with a perplexed look, Ionedhûr walked over to Toldion, a brow cocked quizzically. Toldion motioned, his face weary, clearly meaning that he would speak of this later.  
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The returning party gathered around one fire that night with Ionedhûr and explained all of the morning's happenings. When the talk was done, Ionedhûr motioned them all away, save Aylus and the strange maiden. He would deal with her first.  
  
My dear, what do you think you are doing? he asked her gently.  
  
Fighting to help Gondor, she said in a small voice, looking down into her bowl of stew.  
  
Ionedhûr sighed. You think one small maiden can protect and entire kingdom?  
  
Well, no- Sellevorn started. Suddenly Aylus broke in.  
  
Not only is she unable to help, she caused the death of Canron and Tolmir today! If I had not gone to aid her when she was overwhelmed, I might have saved them!  
  
Sellevorn seemed to shrink, setting down her bowl. Ionedhûr said nothing.  
  
If you were not a maiden, I believe I should hit you! Aylus cried furiously, fingers balled into tight fists at his side.  
  
Sellevorn spoke inaudibly, then coughed and tried again, standing up shakily before the man, who towered above her, quivering in his anger.  
So hit me, she said quietly.  
  
The force with which he slammed his fist into her cheekbone surprised them all. Sellevorn fell to the ground, eyes watering in pain. Ionedhûr began to stand and make his way to Aylus, concerned.   
  
Aylus backed up, turned and ran. He leaned against the stone of the cave for a moment, regaining his composure. He could not believe what he had just done. To hit a woman... ah, but she had caused the death of his friends by acting unlike a woman should. Still, he was sickened beyond belief at his actions.  
  
After a time of standing in the dark in silence, he returned to the fire and Ionedhûr. Sellevorn had left, and he saw her sleeping in a corner away from the fires of the rangers.   
  
They sat for a moment, companionably staring into the fire. Ionedhûr began to speak softly, expecting no answer from his reclusive young friend.  
  
She did not know any better, Aylus, he said gently. She was reared in a small Rohan village. Why, she believed elves were a form of demon until I set her mind at rest! He gave a short chuckle, then continued. She is young, and she made a mistake. Pride is a harsh master, Aylus, and at some point in our lives it rules us all.  
  
Aylus sighed and turned over. None of his mentor's kind words could ease the horror he had experienced, or lessen his loathing of the maiden who now slept, his bruise spreading over her eye. She deserved it.  
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In the depths of the night, Sellevorn roused herself with a groan. Her leg felt as though fire raced along its length, though the rest of her body felt very cold away from a fire in this dank cave. She thought in shock and horror of Aylus' earlier accusation. She had merely desired to aid the men in battle, and yet, nothing had gone as she wished. She had killed only two Uruk-Hai and been unromantically wounded. She shifted, easing her leg. No one had as yet even looked at the wound.  
You wanted to be independent,' she thought bitterly.  
  
She had wanted to help Gondor when her people would not. She had wanted so many things she could never have. She had never become an outstanding fighter, though she made up for her lack of skill, she thought, with courage and grace. Now she saw that these qualities were merely pride and bluster.  
  
Unable to sleep, she rose quietly and limped to an open space within the caves. She began to go through the moves necessary to warm her body up for sword practice when she heard a noise behind her. Whirling around, she gave a blind strike with her blade out of sheer instinct.  
  
Aylus fell back and quickly unsheathed his sword and brought it up, blocking the blow just in time. He had just gone to see where the maiden had gone, not liking the idea of sleeping whilst she wandered the caves, armed. It seemed his fears had not been unfounded. Eyes narrowed in rage, he swept his blade around to attack again, seeing her eyes widen in the darkness.  
  
Sellevorn knew not why this man was attacking her, but seeing the naked anger in his face, she replied in kind, scowling at him past her black eye and raising her sword again to block his blow.  
  
They sparred for a while in the dark cave, parrying and attacking. Sellevorn was frightened to discover her opponent was a far better swordsman that she. Trying to push an advantage she had momentarily gained, she began the circling flick of her blade which was meant to disarm her opponent. As she leaned forward, however, her injured leg slipped on a hidden patch of water and she fell, on her back and with the point of Aylus' sword pointing directly at the bridge of her nose.  
  
Aylus began to relax, lifting his blade slightly. However, Sellevorn had been attacked without any reason and she felt he still owed her for the disgrace. Sweeping her good leg around behind Aylus' knees, she knocked him off his feet and he fell on top of her, sword clanging away into the darkness.  
  
Immediately their hands were at each other's throats. They wrestled on the floor, seething with anger.  
  
Ionedhûr's voice made him freeze. The man walked over to them, a stern expression on his face. You are fighting on the floor like a young child! For shame!  
  
It was her fault! he exclaimed, pointing to a very bruised and dirty Sellevorn.  
  
She let out a gasp. My fault? You started the fight to begin with!  
  
No, you brought out your sword against me, as I recall!  
  
You punched me!  
  
You let me!  
  
Ionedhûr roared, voice echoing in the caverns. Make peace between yourselves in an adult manner, if you please. Ranger. Lady. He gave them an ironic bow and left, yawning widely.  
  
Aylus said flatly, tightening his lips.  
  
Sellevorn agreed thickly past a bitten tongue.   
  
Turning their eyes from each other, they went back to bed.  
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Ionedhûr sat up, eyes closed but ears open, listening as Sellevorn tentatively made her way to the fire and lay down as far from Aylus as she was able. He listened as first Aylus, then Sellevorn, drifted off to sleep, the sound of breathing becoming quieter in his ears. Sighing, he opened his eyes and took out his pipe, nearly lighting it before realizing the distinctive smell of the pipeweed might wake the others. He settled down, sucking on his unlit pipe. Sleep did not come easily these days. His dreams were haunted by memories, of sorrow and happiness.  
  
To distract himself, he thought of Aylus. The young ranger had much still to learn, and Ionedhûr feared that the boy's life would not be easy. Words echoed in his head.  
If I had not gone to aid her...  
her fault...  
You punched me! You let me...  
  
He read the message under these words. Aylus blamed himself for the deaths, a common mistake among new rangers, but he was hiding from it, twisting his thoughts to escape the awful notion, and placing the blame on Sellevorn, who admittedly had played a part. Ionedhûr gave a deep sigh. He was going to have a long talk with Aylus when he awoke.  
  
His thoughts on the matter of Aylus set at ease, as much as possible, he settled himself to wait for light to creep into the caves with the coming of daylight. Thoughts of Anoën crept into his mind as he sat silent, making him take in a breath as though an old wound twinged.  
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Aylus, a well-conditioned ranger, was up before the sun and ready with breakfast. He noticed that Sellevorn slept deeply, even when the smell of breakfast cooking began to spread through the caves. He focused very hard on the sausages sizzling over the fire, and the feeling of heat on his face and cold at his back, and the light creeping slowly into the caves. He did not think of Tolmir or Canron. He thought of Sellevorn, and her odd fighting style, wondering how she had retained such basic errors as feinting and never striking, or holding the blade at such a low height. And then the sausages were done, and he turned to prod Ionedhûr awake before noticing that both he and the maiden had gone while Aylus focused on cooking. Aylus shrugged to himself and sat down with a plate loaded with sausages and potatoes someone at the next fire had been frying. He sat alone, as he always did.   
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Out in the dim, watery sunlight of the new day, Ionedhûr sat with Sellevorn. When he had seen the state the maiden was in that morning, he had decided to speak with her and doctor some of her bruises before talking to Aylus. Measuring bandages, he glanced sidelong at the wounds Aylus had given Sellevorn. He winced at the deep purple bruise over her eye, and at the grit which had gotten into the cut on her leg. From the stiff way she sat, he knew she had taken a beating.  
Why, Aylus?' part of him cried. A ranger should be a healer, not a destroyer! Why vent your rage on a helpless, misguided maiden?'  
  
He had no answers. Once he finished binding the cut on her leg and bathing her black eye, Ionedhûr left Sellevorn to her breakfast, taken quietly from the fire while Aylus looked distractedly about the caves. He walked slowly through the caves and came up behind the young ranger, who characteristically sat alone by the small fire they had shared.  
He nodded.  
  
Yes, Captain Ionedhûr? Aylus said, looking at him with the blank expression of a soldier addressing his commander.  
  
Aylus, do not be so with me!  
  
Yes, sir.  
  
Aylus! You will listen to me! Ionedhûr's patience was growing short, and he knew he was merely compounding the problem by ordering the boy around.  
  
Yes, si-  
  
Never mind, Aylus. Ionedhûr began to turn away, and then, seeing Aylus' shoulders suddenly slump in relief, seized his chance. Covering the boy's mouth with one hand, he used the other to force his chin upwards so that their gazes locked.  
Aylus. You will now listen. I did not come here to scold you... Ionedhûr made as expressive a shrug as he could manage with both hands occupied, I came to talk to you. You must tell me why you were so upset last night, and then as a captain, I will have to see whether you are fit for combat. As a friend, I will try to help you. _You do not have to be alone_, Aylus.  
Ionedhûr rocked back on his heels, wary. Can you speak to me, and look at me now? he asked, making as though to remove his hands. Aylus gave a slow nod, and Ionedhûr let him go and sat down on his heels, hands propped under his chin.  
Aylus rubbed along his throat where Ionedhûr had held him, then looked up at the taller man.  
  
I just didn't like that maiden, that's all. Women should not go out fighting when they only make more trouble and kil- Tolmir- and... I mean, that is all I have to say, he finished uncomfortably.  
  
But if that is all you think, then why would you fight a maiden who you believe should not be fighting herself? I think, Aylus, that you are very upset about the death of your companions. That is all right, but you have to learn-  
  
Learn what? Aylus asked, his face twisted into a grimace, Learn to be like you, who never stops mourning? I hear you at night, I see you grieving. Has it given you happiness or peace, Ionedhûr? His tone turned deliberately disrespectful, an ironic mockery of his former deference.  
  
I am not the issue, Aylus! Ionedhûr thundered. When you have seen ten centuries on Middle Earth you will give me counsel!  
  
Aylus turned to him in disgust. I thought you were my friend, he said softly, eyes narrowed to slits.  
  
I am your friend, Aylus, Ionedhûr insisted, but I am also older and wiser than you and you must listen to my advice! His tone softened. Think of all the time you have known me. Have I not ever been a friend? He reached out to tousle the boy's hair in his familiar gesture.  
  
Aylus swatted his hand aside and stood, spilling the remainder of his breakfast unto the stone floor of the cave. You are not the same person who was my friend! You _know_ since when, Ionedhûr. With a final glance, the young man strode away, leaving Ionedhûr alone, his heart echoing with the answering vibration to Aylus' final accusation. _Anoën_... Putting his head in his hands, Ionedhûr sat with his eyes closed for a long time, tears leaking through his fingers.  
**************************************************  
Sellevorn looked up from her plate as Aylus stormed by.  
What's the matter? she asked, trying to be friendly.  
  
He brushed past past her with a glare, not even granting her a word in response.  
  
Sellevorn sat in front of the caves, completely alone. No one had comforted her, Ionedhûr had merely tended to her wounds brusquely and then gone to speak with this ingrate. It obviously hadn't done him any good! She felt very, very lonely and forgotten. In sum, the experience was not proving itself at all similar to the heroic adventures her father had told her when she was younger. There were no valiant rescues or brave sacrifices, no magical blades or anything but an exceedingly introverted band of rangers who had not said more than five words to her at any given time. She did not even want to think of the rude brute who kept coming at her seemingly with the intention to kill.  
  
Heaving a sigh, she walked off to where Faerloss stood grazing, hoping at least to find some comfort with her horse.  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing Tolkien has ever written about. I know, it's hard to believe. Is it just me, or does one get rather bitter after having to write a certain number (3) of disclaimers all disclaiming the same thing? In my other stories the disclaimers are humorous, for that reason. You should read them! The stories, I mean. And the disclaimers, too. 

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	4. Chapter Three: Of Mirth and Silence

**Chapter Three: Of Mirth and Silence  
**  
Sellevorn began to mount Faerloss, to ride across the plains away from this strange new place she had found. But as she passed a stand of rocks about fifty paces from the entrance to Henneth Annûn, an arrow was trained on her face and a low voice growled at her to state her business. She pulled Faerloss to a quick halt, dust rising from the dry grass about his hooves, and looked down at the sentry.  
  
State yer business in Henneth Annûn, and yer business leavin' it, the man growled, in the accent of a native of Bree.  
  
I was just going for a ride... Sellevorn trailed off, a bit taken aback.  
  
A likely story! Takin' news to the enemy, are ya? he nocked his arrow and squinted up at her, aiming.  
  
No! I truly was just going for a ride. I came here to help with the fighting- on the side of Gondor, she added hastily.  
  
Ah, yer of Rohan, then, the man spat, looking even more suspicious. And a maiden no less! Somethin' about this just rings wrong.  
  
Sellevorn raised her weaponless hands helplessly, wondering how she could get out of this.  
*********************  
  
Aylus was riding around the border of Henneth Annûn, restless. Off in the distance he saw Garonur, an old Ranger who had remained mostly in Bree for his long years, aiming his weapon at a mounted figure. The horse looked familiar... ah, yes. It was the horse of that maiden. Shaking his head, he turned around to ride back the other way. Whatever questioning she got was deserved, and it would be funny to see her interrogated by the garrulous old ranger. Thinking again, he turned about to move closer, wishing for a better view of the action.  
  
Slipping off the horse, he snuck closer to the pair who stood in a standoff, relying on his ranger training to slip through the long grass and stands of bushes unnoticed. He saw Garonur's eyes flick in his direction and gave an audible groan. Of course the old ranger could see him, and now Sellevorn was looking curiously and fearfully at the bushes in which he was hidden. Sighing, he stepped out and moved closer, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. He saw Sellevorn stifle a giggle as he came closer, scowling.  
  
_What's she so happy about?_ he wondered.  
******************************  
  
Sellevorn tried not to laugh at the sight of a very disheveled Aylus, thinking he probably wouldn't take it well, from what she had seen of the young ranger. But he looked so ridiculous! The knees and seat of his pants were covered in dried grass and dust, and his hair was sticking up wildly in every direction. He looked like a naughty young boy who had been playing in the dirt.   
  
One look at the fierce expression on his face dispelled that notion, however. As always since they had met, he was frowning deeply. Sellevorn wondered why he was always so grim; she herself found life to be a generally nice experience, with heroes and happy endings and days of riding with her friends at home. Even her quest to aid Gondor was just an effort to create another happy ending to a heroic tale of her own.  
  
She paused, startled at her own thoughts. Was that really how she saw it? The notion flitted through her mind and was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. She turned back to Garonur and Aylus.  
  
... and she's from Rohan, and I caught her tryin' to sneak off... the older man was saying to Aylus.  
  
Aylus got a calculating light in his eye. Not looking at Sellevorn (but then, he rarely made eye contact with anyone, she had noticed), he proclaimed loudly,  
Yes, indeed, you may have been right to be suspicious. She is quite vicious! He pointed to a long scratch on his arm which she had given him the night before.  
  
Garonur chuckled.  
Ah, so it's that maiden, is it? he said. Ah, Ionedhûr said she was harmless, Aylus. He looked at the younger man with a slightly smug grin, and Aylus' frown deepened still further. Sellevorn shared a tentative smile with Garonur, and Aylus spun on his heel and walked off.  
  
Not so fast! proclaimed Garonur. Ionedhûr's been to see me, told me you had to report to him immediately. Somethin' about being unfit for combat. He looked at Aylus levelly. You'd best see him now, lad.  
  
With a short gasp, Aylus turned and walked to his horse, stance rigid. He kept his face turned away from Sellevorn and Garonur, but he could feel their derisive, pitying glances following him. No one appreciated him.  
  
Sellevorn looked at Aylus' back in surprise. He was so very odd, and a little sad. She wondered again why he hated her so, then shrugged and turned to Garonur with a smile.  
she asked him, Is it all right if I go for a ride?  
*****************************  
  
Aylus stormed back to the caves in high dudgeon. Ionedhûr was a presumptuous old fool! How could he bar an able warrior from fighting?  
  
At the back of his mind he felt a twinge. The words he had just spoken reminded him of Sellevorn's earlier words to Toldion... that was ridiculous of course. They were nothing alike. He ran his hand through his hair again and walked into the caves, where Ionedhûr waited.  
*******************************  
Ionedhûr sat watching the sunrise from inside the cave. It had taken unusually long for the red rays to clear the mountaintop this morning, and the sun still was not fully in sight, though a good hour-and-a-half had passed since breakfast. He sang to himself again, ashamed at resorting to bits of bad doggerel to express his feelings.  
  
Dawn breaks o'er the mountain  
the sun an orb, blood-red  
My love is like a fountain  
which is stopped up at its head.  
  
Ionedhûr sighed. That was his life; a bad minstrel tune. He shook himself firmly, trying not to become mired in self-pity. The boy had come too close to the truth for comfort with his accusations, and he could be coming to the caves any moment now. Ionedhûr had told the new shift of border guards to pass on his message, and surely one would have stumbled on Aylus by now.  
  
Indeed, footsteps approached, and a glance showed him an exceedingly disheveled Aylus, walking up to the caves, trying not to look at him. Despite himself, Ionedhûr felt a pang; the boy looked so very young and hurt.  
  
he called out, trying to soften his usual bark used in commanding the rangers. Come here, I wish to speak with you.  
  
The boy came closer, dragging his feet a bit. He stood at attention before Ionedhûr, eyes downcast.  
Yes, Commander? he said softly.  
  
Aylus, this time you must hear me out. I will not speak of the recent skirmish or your behavior towards our guest. I want to speak of you.  
  
Aylus started to say something, but Ionedhûr held up a hand.  
No, let me finish. You seem so angry and sad, Aylus. Why is this?  
  
We are at war, Commander. The world is a dark place. Aylus squeezed his eyes shut at a sudden wave of mental pain, which came for no reason at all.  
  
Nay, Aylus. We are fighting so that the world does not become a dark place. That is why it is so important that we keep our own mirth, even through war. It is invaluable in rebuilding a life, Ionedhûr said gently, adding, It is invaluable to living a life.  
_I have lost my own mirth and joy_, he thought, _but I have a reason._ _Why does Aylus feel thusly with no great cause?  
  
_Aylus cleared his throat uncomfortably, then gave in to tears and rushed into Ionedhûr's arms. Ionedhûr clasped the boy close to him, breathing in the dust from his dirty and tousled hair like the scent from a flower. Tears soaked the back of his jerkin, but he did not let go for a long time. Neither did Aylus.  
  
Finally they pulled back, and Aylus wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, smudging his face with dirt. Ionedhûr offered a handkerchief, which he took gladly.  
  
So, my commander, he said, more friendly, Am I fit to fight? I wish to aid the city where my family lives, he added softly.  
  
Ionedhûr nodded slowly. Some doubts still plagued his mind, but he pushed them aside.   
  
We hold a practice tomorrow, he said after an uncomfortable moment. for all the rangers who will fight at Osgiliath if it comes down to it. You may join us.  
  
Aylus nodded but did not smile.  
Thank you, Ionedhûr, he said, and walked off to his fire, where he sat for a time sharpening his sword.  
  
Disclaimer: I think I've disclaimed enough for now, don't you? But just to be safe, I don't own anything Tolkien ever wrote about. Not that I included much in this part of the story. I'm sorry it's so short, by the way. More is coming soon!


	5. Chapter Four: Of Bows and Arrows

**Chapter Four: Of Bows and Arrows  
**  
Ionedhûr woke the next morning with a smile on his lips. He had been dreaming, but now awake he could not remember of what. It was odd, he mused, it was the happy dreams one forgot.   
  
Sellevorn, waking nearby after a deep sleep, saw his smile and gave him one of her own. She felt happier after the ride of yesterday, and even Aylus had been passingly civil when she returned. She had spoken at length with Garonur, letting her gregarious nature out at last, and he had been nice, though he still believed that a female fighting in battle was wrong. Sellevorn was starting to wonder herself. However, she was certain she could do it, if only given a chance. She had never been given a chance back home.   
  
Home... she missed it now. She missed her parents, and her aunt and uncle. She spoke aloud, not knowing she did so.  
  
she said softly to herself. She needed to get it out.  
  
Ionedhûr looked at the obviously lonely girl in sympathy, tugging at the tip of one ear thoughtfully, as he was wont to do.  
  
Sellevorn looked up at him with a curious expression, feeling her fingers curl into fists at the strange look of the man's ears. Half-man, she reminded herself. She spoke up, trying to sound civil and afraid she was violating some rule of propriety.  
  
How is it that you are Man and Elf, sir? she asked. What is it like? Who was your mother, and your father?  
  
Ionedhûr hesitated, taken aback for a moment. Such questions were not usually asked of him, but then, he lived among his men as a commander, and this maiden did not see his other, sterner persona.  
And then, too, there was the matter he did not wish to remember. He spoke carefully.  
My mother was an Elf of Mirkwood, my father was... a Man. I think he was one of the Wildmen. He swallowed. He stopped. How could he tell this story to a child? She looked to have lived less than a score of years!  
  
Sellevorn looked at him curiously, unblinking, and he continued despite himself.  
  
They met but once, when the Wildmen were raiding the area around the forest. I was born after that, I do not know how it came to pass. Elves don't usually... Well, he said uncomfortably, my mother died of grief when I was quite young.  
  
Sellevorn put a hand over her mouth.  
'Tis like a sad story, she whispered.  
  
Ionedhûr wished to steer the conversation back into less personal areas, and so said,  
You like stories, do you? We have quite a collection of books Lord Faramir has brought here.   
  
Sellevorn felt shamed.  
I cannot read, she said softly.  
  
I see, said Ionedhûr. The maiden was so innocent, or ignorant. They sat in silence a moment.  
  
You don't have children of your own, do you? she asked him offhandedly, tired of the uncomfortable silence and thinking still of her parents.  
  
Ionedhûr said, voice cracking a bit.  
  
Aylus walked in from his early-morning watch duty and sat down by the fire next to Ionedhûr.  
When is practice? he asked Ionedhûr, ignoring the maiden seated across from him.  
  
Oh, I nearly forgot all about that, put in Ionedhûr sarcastically. It's this afternoon, as well you know, and if you don't wash beforehand, you'll kill us all with your stench. How long has it been, a turn of the moon? Get to the falls and bathe, and then you may join us at the archery ranges.  
His eyes twinkled with mirth, and Aylus gave him a small smile and going off to do as he was bid.  
  
Sellevorn sat, wondering why Ionedhûr only seemed happy around this sad, silent boy. She could have done with a little mirth, herself.  
  
***************************  
  
As soon as Aylus was gone, Ionedhûr ran a hand over his eyes distractedly before remembering the presence of his companion, Sellevorn. She watched him eagerly, and he gave a sigh.  
  
You want to practice, do you? he asked her.  
  
Sellevorn was surprised. She had been thinking no such thing, and in fact her leg still ached from her wound the other day. But she was quick to give a solemn nod, and try to look the imposing warrior-maid. She would prove herself in battle, if she could be accepted among the men no other way.  
  
Ionedhûr continued, again tugging at an ear, I suppose you may join us for archery practice, tis a useful skill for a lady to know how to hunt in these times.  
  
Sellevorn nodded, scowling a bit to keep up appearances, but inside she was actually quite happy. At last she could prove herself! Belatedly she remembered her less-than-amazing skill at archery, and winced slightly before straightening her spine and resolving to do her best.  
**********************************  
  
It was time to practice. Aylus had been lying on the rocks outside the caves baking the last traces of moisture out of his clean hair when he heard Ionedhûr give the strident call to assemble. He and about thirty other young rangers under Ionedhûr's training jurisdiction lined up before the stuffed-straw dummies on the practice field. He noticed that there was only one empty place, and turned to see the maiden, Sellevorn, taking Tolmir's empty spot. His heart gave a lurch, and he suddenly and inexplicably thought of his little brother.  
  
cam Ionedhûr's yell.  
  
Aylus nocked an arrow.  
  
came the second shout.  
  
Aylus sighted along his bow, glancing sidelong at the maiden. She wasn't pulling back far enough, he though absently.   
  
Concentrate on your OWN target, soldiers! said Ionedhûr. And... FIRE!  
  
Blushing, Aylus loosed his arrow, then threw his bow to the ground in disgust as it hit the bottom edge of the dummy and glanced off.  
  
Remember, soldiers, don't pluck the bow! See how Aylus' shot didn't have enought power or accuracy? He looked at Aylus with a raised brow. You want to get enough leverage to be able to simply release it, without twanging it and taking away some of your accuracy. Like so, watch me!  
  
He moved forward among the rangers and demonstrated, making a perfect hit in the middle of the dummy's torso. Then he came and adjusted the soldiers' stances. He nodded at Aylus when he was done correcting him, and gave the boy an encouraging clap on the shoulder as the moved along the line to correct the others.  
  
Aylus tensed under Ionedhûr's touch. He seethed with anger at being so insulted before his comrades, when Sellevorn had twanged her bow far more than he, and missed the target entirely. It was not fair that he was chided for this!  
  
*********************************  
  
Sellevorn felt a little slighted when Ionedhûr ignored her completely. However, when her arrow flew amiss, she was glad attention was not focused on her. Still, when he corrected everyone save her, she felt badly. Was she beneath his help, unworthy of even correction, just because she was female?  
  
She was determined, now, to correct herself and make a perfect shot. At the calls of she tried to copy Ionedhûr's demonstration, but no matter how she struggled, she was unable to master the man-sized bow enough to pull it back fully, and her shot went wide and stuck, quivering, in the side of Aylus' dummy. He gave a snort, and she saw Ionedhûr walk up and whisper something in his ear. He nodded sourly, and prepared another arrow. His own last shot had stuck in the belly of the dummy.  
  
They shot a few more rounds, and then Ionedhûr bellowed again.  
  
COLLECT YOUR ARROWS AND MEET ME AT THE EXERCISE FIELD!  
  
He walked off, stopping at Sellevorn's side.  
  
You go back to the caves and give your arrows to Garonur, all right?  
  
Reluctantly, she nodded and moved forward to find her arrows. Most of the twenty she had been issued stuck out of the ground at odd angles, but a few had landed squarely in the center of her dummy. She was congratulating herself over this when she came to collect nineteen of her arrows, and was unable to find the other. Then she remembered.  
  
It had stuck in the side of Aylus' dummy. Sighing abashedly, she walked over to the dummy in question and began trying to extricate her arrow. It wouldn't budge. Aylus sauntered over, having pulled out all his arrows save one, and made as though to yank his last arrow out.  
  
His would not come, either. He pulled harder, frowning and studiously ignoring Sellevorn, who was now tugging furiously at her own arrow. Suddenly, the sacking holding the straw of the dummy in place gave way, and both Aylus and Sellevorn tumbled to the ground. Sellevorn's arrow was stuck fast with one of Aylus', straight through the wood. Both arrows were now unusable.  
  
Unexpectedly, Aylus laughed. Sellevorn joined in, glad to find some measure of joy in this dreary place at last. She was still chuckling when Aylus' laughter grew almost frantic. He gave a gasp and his laughter abruptly ceased. He stood, looking coldly down at her.  
  
You ruined two perfectly good arrows, he said, almost no hint of emotion in his voice. The words never changed in volume. We need these for the war. To protect the city. He was gritting his teeth, he noticed. He calmed himself again, gave her a cold, uncertain look, and left, dropping the entwined arrows beside Sellevorn.  
  
She stared at him incredulously, then picked up the arrows and pulled them apart with a swift jerk. They were not ruined, she mused, looking them over. A little sanding and straightening would fix them. She had always been good at carving and woodwork, and she knew she could mend these.  
  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Tolkien ever wrote, and if this surprises you, you need therapy. If this surprises you because you, yourself, do indeed own Tolkien's work, would you consider selling it to me?


End file.
